Football Is For Lovers
by Amenan
Summary: Kyle Broflovski is tired of being left out of the social scene at South Park High, so he decides to try out for the football team. But is he really in it for football? Or just to be closer to Stan? And why does Cartman find all of this so hilarious?
1. No Great Shakes

It was a Friday night, and Kyle Broflovski was asleep. He had crawled into the makeshift bed on the floor of his bedroom, which he constructed out of the clothes he was previously wearing and some of his old stuffed animals. His real bed still existed and was as a matter of fact right next to his makeshift one. It was the final day for exams at South Park High, and now Kyle was too mentally exhausted to even attempt to put in the effort required to sleep in his bed (which really only included having to make the bed once he woke up). Kyle slept among the unkempt teddy bears and sour scented clothes with his body positioned crookedly. His arms were splayed out vertically and his legs had gone into a horizontal position, making Kyle appear as if he was performing a split in his sleep. His head twisted slightly as he lay in his "bed" and dreamt about….

_Red. Red. Red. Red. Red._

_Everything here was red. If there were any objects at all, he could not tell. The red he saw was continuous and monotonous, different shades could not be found. _

_Kyle cautiously made his way through wherever he was. _

_Something stopped him in his tracks. _

_It was a picture of Stan with his football jersey on, Stan was smiling triumphantly as the sun beamed down in the background illuminating the stadium seats behind him. The picture was meticulously placed in front of wherever Kyle moved. He would try to walk around the picture, but it remained in front of his feet. _

_An iron nail appeared in Kyle's palm, and no sooner did he feel its cold did the red begin to flood all around him, threatening to suffocate him in bright color._

_Kyle knew what had to be done._

_He jammed the nail through the upper part of the picture of Stan and then carefully aligned the nail with a piece of the red._

_He plunged the nail into the red…._

"GIRL IF YOU'RE WONDERING IF I WANT YOU TO, I WANT YOU TO!"

Kyle's cell phone rang loudly from his pants' pocket which was currently serving as his pillow. Kyle woke up abruptly, springing from his makeshift bed unsteadily and plummeting back down towards it unceremoniously. After recovering from the fall, Kyle reached into his pillow and answered his cell.

"Hello?" Kyle said with his raspy just-woke-up voice.

"KYLENATOR!!! WHERE ARE YOU? THIS PARTY IS INSSSANNNNNE."

It was Stan, clearly drunk. Kyle could tell because whenever Stan was drunk, he was also deafening.

"Stan? Where are you?" Kyle yawned and rubbed his eyes. What time was it? How long had he been asleep? Kyle scanned his pitch black room until his eyes found the numbers on the clock blinking a deep green. 6:00 AM.

"Stan it's 6:00 AM." Kyle mentioned it to Stan casually, assuming that in Stan's drunken state time really didn't matter.

"THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE DUDE. I JUST GOT HEREEEEEEYEAHHHHH!" Stan yelled into the cell phone and Kyle cringed at the sound.

"Kyle? Kyle? Is this you?" A familiar girl's voice came through Stan's cell.

"Hey Wendy, yeah this is me." Kyle stood up and proceeded to turn the lights on in his room. He guessed that he wouldn't be getting anymore sleep.

He guessed right.

"Kyle, could you do me a BIG favor? Could you come get Stan? Pretty pink confetti please? He's really plastered and I totally have a student council meeting at like, 7."

"AM?" Kyle inquired as he put on his pants and struggled getting his arms through his orange jacket.

"Duh!" Wendy laughed airily. "You're so cute when you play dumb."

_Play dumb,_ Kyle thought. _Right._

"Anyways, could you make it quick? I think he needs to puke and my floors are carpeted, Kyle. So please, please cherry on top get here okay-sies? Love you, Bro." Wendy had been calling Kyle "bro" ever since the 8th grade. She thought it would be a "cute nickname" since Kyle's last name began with the word. Kyle hated it but every time he brought up eradicating its use, Wendy looked like she was about to cry glittering tears.

_Literally, _glittering.

"Yeah sure, be there soon Wendy." Kyle hung up and stumbled through his bedroom door. Some parts of his brain seemed to still be stuck in sleep mode.

Kyle stealthily came down the stairway and quietly opened the front door. He closed and locked it just as silently.

Kyle started the walk to Wendy's house; the weather outside was average. It wasn't blazing hot, nor was it freezing cold. As Kyle made his way down different streets and across various intersections, he thought about why he didn't go to parties.

Stan had a Kyle. Kenny had a whoever Kenny was dating at the time. Cartman had somebody blackmailed.

Who did Kyle have to come pick him up if he got wasted at a party? Even though Kyle never planned on drinking to the point he was reverted back to an infant state, it still felt strange to realize that even if he ever did he wasn't sure who Wendy would be using his cell phone to call.

When Kyle approached the house, he saw Stan's car parked outside. He knocked on Wendy's door three times in succession.

She swung open the door, smiling. Kyle glanced at her outfit. She was wearing a black tank top that was sporadically covered in shining plastic diamonds. Some spots on the top were empty, only showing a faint outline of glue. Her jean shorts were waaaay above her knees and were decorated with the word "Ferocious" in giant, deep blue lettering that started at the left hip of the shorts and ended at the right. Her hair was tangled and messy, and Kyle swore that an olive fell out of it when she opened the door. She wasn't wearing any kind of shoes, so her chipped pink toenail polish was clearly visible. Her violet plastic nails that were resting on the door's knob were chipped as well. Wendy's neck was covered in multiple hickeys, and the hickey pattern was repeated near the bottom of her shorts.

Kyle got a feeling Wendy got laid last night.

And where was he? Oh that's right. Sleeping on top of a bundle of the same outfit he had on now and a few of his stuffed animals.

"So glad you came, Bro!" Wendy hugged Kyle unexpectedly. Kyle was wary of the embrace, when Wendy was this touchy feely she usually wanted him to do more than she asked him for originally.

"Where's St-"Kyle didn't get to finish. Stan came barreling out of Wendy's house, pushing the two embracing to the wayside.

Wendy let go of Kyle to scoff at Stan.

"Rude." Wendy stared at Stan viciously.

"Sorry Wendy….just….puked…..on carpet….didn't mean to…" Stan burped and covered his mouth with his hand.

Wendy's face drained of color. Her skin went as blank as a sheet of copy paper.

Wendy curtly waved a goodbye at Kyle and slammed her door.

Kyle heard her screams on the other side.

"Let's go. I think Wendy's about to turn into the She-Hulk." Kyle dragged Stan by his arm towards Stan's car. Kyle opened the passenger door and pushed Stan inside. Kyle got into the driver's seat and held out his hand for Stan's keys.

Stan handed over his keys and closed his eyes, making a low moaning sound as he did.

"You hurt?" Kyle asked as he started up the car.

"Nah. Dude, that was awesome. Where were you?" Stan kept his eyes closed.

Kyle ignored the question and backed out of Wendy's driveway.

"Stan you do realize that this party probably ended hours ago?" Kyle checked his rearview mirror. "Why'd you stay so long?"

"Dunno, maybe I was just born to party man." Stan slurred and coughed. "You still a virgin?"

"Totally appropriate Stan. Totally appropriate." Kyle continued to drive Stan back to Stan's house. He considered his situation. He was driving a drunken Stan home yet again. He knew he'd have to lie to Stan's parents and probably his parents too about where they'd been. Out to study the morning habits of some unique made up tree frog? His parents would buy that. And he needed Stan to….search for that made up tree frog. That made up tree frog was so damned elusive! Kyle sighed. He was honestly tired of this.

Stan was already asleep when Kyle checked on him. He decided that a conversation with a sleeping Stan would pretty much be the same as a conversation with a drunken one. He kept his focus on the road and let the words tumble out of him.

"Stan, I'm going to change. Do you hear me Stan? I'm tired of being your chauffeur because you can't control yourself. I'm tired of being the guy with all the grades and none of the girls, Stan. I'm tired of being-"

Stan started to snore.

Kyle broke. He honked the car's horn.

Stan did not stir.

Kyle was now even more determined. Next time Kyle Broflovski _wouldn't_ be asleep.


	2. Favors Come in Different Flavors

Stan woke up in his bedroom. He didn't even remember falling asleep. He sat up in his bed and almost hurled. His stomach was still hung-over from last night's party and his head felt like someone had thrown a brick at him. He pressed his palms against his ears as the sound of voices drifted through his room's walls.

"And then I was like, NO WAY!" Stan's sister.

"Oh my God! And then I bet he was like, YES WAY!" Kenny.

Kenny? Why was Kenny at his house? And why was he talking to his sister like they were bff's?

Stan groaned and pushed himself off of his bed. He descended the stairs clumsily, instead of sounding like one person was coming down the steps it sounded more like a whole marching band.

When Stan got to his kitchen, Shelley and Kenny's conversation suddenly paused.

Shelley was wearing her work clothes, a dark brown cotton jacket with a white blouse underneath. Her skirt was knee length and colored black. The mauve high heels she was sporting made her look important on the business social ladder, and her hair was combed back simply with an egg white headband on top.

Kenny was wearing his signature orange parka and camo inspired pants.

"Good morning." Stan smirked and waved to his sister and best friend.

Shelley smiled back. "You look like shit."

Kenny laughed.

"I love you too, Shelley." Stan said sarcastically.

Shelley rolled her eyes. "Stan, put on some clothes. Your body is disgusting."

Stan inspected his current outfit, and even though he disagreed with Shelley about his body being disgusting he _did_ need to put some clothes on. He was only wearing light blue boxers.

"Pretty sure I had clothes on last night." Stan contemplated. "Where are they?"

"You puked all over them, pig. Your boyfriend put them in the washer before he left." Shelley went to the laundry room to retrieve them for Stan, and returned with the balled up outfit in her hands. She pushed the clothes into Stan's chest….hard.

"Ow." Stan commented as he felt the warmth from the clothes. Shelley must have put them in the dryer after Kyle put them in the washer. Unfortunately, that was probably the nicest thing she'd done for him in years.

"Sorry. I thought football players couldn't feel." Shelley brushed her shoulder length brunette hair back from her face sharply and turned towards Kenny again.

"Thanks for the morning talk, Kenny. I have to get to work." Shelley grinned. "Oh and shithead? Don't forget to thank your boyfriend for bringing your sorry ass home last night. If it was up to me I would've left you out on the sidewalk covered in your own puke." Shelley said cheerfully as she picked her purse up off of the kitchen counter and left the room.

Stan unraveled the clothes and put them on. Last night he was wearing a red shirt that said in bold, bluish letters "This is how you win, boys" on the front. On the back the shirt read "South Park High Football".

The pants he had chosen were dark black if that was even possible.

"Dude, why weren't you at the party last night?" Stan asked Kenny as he pulled up his pants.

"I was at the party last night for about 20 minutes. Before I met _Stacy."_ Kenny pronounced the girl's name like it was a new flavor of soda a company was trying to advertise sexily.

"Stacy, Stacy, Stacy. I don't think I know a Stacy." Stan turned his head to the side as he thought about it.

"Come on! Stacy? The new girl who hangs out with Wendy's group? Fake blonde? Shortish? Super high pitched voice? Nice bod? I totally scored with _Stacy._" Kenny said her name again the same way.

"Sorry Kenny. I have no idea who you're talking about." Stan laughed. "And by the way, why were you in my kitchen?"

"You have the tendency to get wasted beyond belief." Kenny shrugged. "Just making sure you weren't in the hospital…or jail."

"Thanks." Stan punched Kenny in the arm playfully. "Hey, let's head over to Kyle's place."

"Cool. Maybe he'll know who _Stacy_ is." Kenny clasped his hands together. "Please God; let him know who _Stacy_ is."

Stan punched Kenny in the arm again and then started to leave the house.

"Dude!" Kenny called out from behind Stan.

"Yeah?" Stan replied, almost to the door.

"You forgot your shoes."

Stan and Kenny drove to Kyle's place. Stan had found the keys to his car left on his dashboard from that morning. When they arrived, Stan hopped up the steps to Kyle's door and rang his doorbell swiftly.

Kyle came to the door and sluggishly cracked it. His eyes were half open and his hair was disarrayed.

Kyle spoke laboriously. "Whatever you're selling, we're not interested. We apologize and we wish you luck in your future business endeavors." Kyle was going to shut the door when Stan pushed back.

"Dude it's us." Stan held the door open and motioned for Kenny to get out of the car.

"Us?" Kyle attempted to open his eyes a bit wider. "Oh, hey guys. Sup?" Kyle completely opened the door and let Stan and Kenny in.

"Why do you look so tired?" Kenny asked Kyle as he entered the house. "Wild night?"

"Close. I had to pick up Stan at 6 AM from Wendy's. Then I won world's best liar when I explained to his parents how Stan was helping me study the morning habits of a tree frog. At least his parents left it at that. My parents wanted all the details of the tree frog's habitat and if at all possible early sketches of the tree frog's offspring. I think I've earned the right to sleep 'till noon." Kyle sighed and then looked at the clock hanging behind Stan and Kenny in the living room. It read 11:45 AM.

"But apparently not." Kyle said with a dejected tone to his voice.

"Cool, cool." Kenny appeared to have not heard anything Kyle had just said. Kenny wandered off towards Kyle's kitchen. Kyle's mom often left food out especially for Kenny since he came over so often.

"Thanks, by the way." Stan said to Kyle. "For you know, taking me home."

"No problem." Kyle waved his hand.

"And for putting my clothes in the washer."

Kyle waved his hand again. "Not a big deal."

"I actually owe you big time." Stan said it and Kyle already knew it. Stan had been owing Kyle big ever since he started his partying career.

"Nah, it's-"Kyle stopped mid-sentence. All of a sudden his groggy just woke up mind churned out an idea so brilliant it stung the back of his throat.

"Actually, there is something you could do for me." Kyle felt his pulse quicken as he said it.

"Really? What?" Stan asked.

"You could teach me how to play football." The burning in the back of Kyle's throat intensified. If he didn't get the answer he wanted his body might explode into flames, or at least his neck.

Stan chuckled. "Yeah, of course." He clapped Kyle on the back. "For a second, I thought you wanted me to do something _hard._"

Kyle laughed too. "Nah, just wondering how it works." Kyle was surprised that Stan didn't realize what was going on. Football tryouts were coming up at school and out of nowhere he wanted to learn football? Maybe Stan just didn't think about things too hard.

Or worse.

Maybe Stan just thought Kyle didn't stand a chance at tryouts.

"Could we start tomorrow?" Kyle asked innocently.

"Well someone's eager to get himself killed." Stan smirked.

"Just excited to learn something new." Kyle chortled. "Like every other nerd."

"You're not a nerd, Kyle." Stan said earnestly. "And meet me at 9AM out by the park."

"Thanks, Stan." The burning in Kyle's throat subsided and his pulse rate went back to normal. Mission accomplished…for now.

Kenny came back from the kitchen with a plate full of mini sandwiches. "Kyle, did I ever tell you how much I love your mother? I love your mother, Kyle."

Stan took a sandwich off of the plate and popped it in his mouth. "_Oh."_ Stan moaned sensually. "I love your mother too."

"Sometimes you two make me sick." Kyle took one of the sandwiches off of the plate himself. It _was_ pretty delicious. But Kyle really couldn't tell if it was the taste of the sandwich or the taste of possibilities.

From this day forward, Kyle could _possibly _no longer be the responsible one in the group. He wouldn't have to be. He'd have a new posse; there'd be a new Kyle for him to depend on.

Someone to take him home when he was piss drunk.

Kyle could _possibly_ hook up with strange girls at parties like the one Kenny was chattering away about now.

Kyle could have his own Stacy, or Stacy_s_.

Kyle could _possibly_ become the next hickey mark on Wendy's thigh.

The next guy wearing that South Park High Football shirt that seemed to give those guys absolutely everything they wanted.

Kyle could _possibly_ become….major cool.


	3. The Onset

Sunday morning, 9 AM.

Kyle was dressed in his blue and white striped jogging pants and plain white tee, running in place near the bright yellow plastic kiddie slides. There were no annoying children pushing each other off the slides or forcing each other on. In fact there were no children at all. Kyle knew it was because even when it was mildly warm outside, the plastic slides heated up to the point where they became scorching and could cause 1st degree burns.

Kyle also knew that back in the day he would've been on those slides, along with Stan, Kenny and Cartman.

_Kids these days_, Kyle thought, _too afraid to feel the burn_.

When Kyle was in the middle of his jumping jacks, he saw Stan approaching him. Stan walked calmly from the sidewalk and onto the deep green grass that covered the park. Kyle smiled and continued his exercises.

Kyle blinked once during a jumping jack.

Stan was now strangely closer than he was a few seconds ago.

Kyle blinked again.

Stan was inches away from him.

Kyle's last blink was met with an onslaught of agony pulsating throughout his body.

He opened his eyes and stared at the sand box wherein the kiddie slides were embedded. Shadows of four smaller humans, children, began to materialize. The shadows were just that, shadows. Their outlines were black and when directly underneath the sun, their bodies were transparent. Two of the shadows came down the slide's tunnel and the other two sat on the edge of the box, staring at Kyle on the ground.

"I swear to God dude, I know where we can get a cootie shot for 5 cents." One shadow spoke to the other.

"Stan, that's just stupid. Cooties don't exist. They're called germs." The other shadow replied, agitated.

"But only girls have them right?"

The other shadow sighed. "Yes, Stan. Whatever you want to believe."

Kyle knew these two shadows; he had had this conversation years ago on the same sand box's edge the two shadows were perched on now.

_Holy shit._

Kyle had been hit so hard he was having flashbacks.

Kyle turned his head so he could see Stan. They were now face to face.

Kyle on his back, and Stan on top of him.

Stan grinned. "Good news, Kyle. You can take a hit. Most guys just pass out…or cry."

"Fergarblee, treeeeeeyssss uno? Vous la vie, couture de la Georgia. Ughhhhh, the pain is delicious." Kyle coughed and shook. He was hoping Stan understood nonsense and could translate what he just said as "please get off of me. The pain is in fact _not_ delicious."

Stan laughed and rolled off of Kyle and landed beside him.

"It's okay dude. Same thing happened to me the 1st time I got tackled."

"That was a tackle?" Kyle whimpered. "Felt more like a bus. Make that two buses."

"Yeah well, that's the game dude." Stan nudged Kyle in the arm.

Kyle couldn't feel Stan's nudge. Kyle couldn't feel anything except the extraordinary pain spreading to his limbs and back across his chest.

"Alright, you're gonna' have to get up. We have to work on your running." Stan hopped up on both his feet like a break dancer. He held his hand out for Kyle to grab. Kyle took hold of it and was lifted into the air, he gasped once to get his breathing back to normal. "You know Kyle, I don't even think I've seen you run since like 8th grade for gym class." Stan mused. "How fast _can_ you run?"

Kyle digested a huge gulp of air. He silently shifted from one foot to the other. Kyle nodded at Stan….and then took off.

There were some things people seemed to forget about Kyle, like the fact that he had a younger brother.

A younger, easily excited brother. The kind of younger brother who likes to make a dash for freedom at the supermarket, or jump out of a moving vehicle just for fun.

Kyle had to be fast.

Stan kept up with Kyle's pace, although with a struggle. Kyle was already halfway around the park when he decided to check on Stan. Kyle turned around to keep an eye on Stan and continued his quick jogging pace backwards.

That was until he ran into a tree.

The impact of the hitting the tree combined with Kyle's current speed created another surge of pain within Kyle. This time the pain was centralized around his spine. Kyle's hands reached for his back as he fell to the ground face forward with an ungraceful thud.

Stan sped up momentarily to reach him.

"Kyle? You okay?" Stan asked in a concerned manner. Stan kneeled down beside Kyle, and poked and prodded Kyle's back until he got a response.

"Stan….you're….amazing." Kyle felt delirious. He could hear what he was saying, but he couldn't prevent his mouth from saying it. He had gotten the truth knocked out of him. "You could do anything you wanted, you know that? Have anybody you wanted." Kyle dry heaved.

Stan did not bask in the compliments. His face became stoic and his voice coarse. "No Kyle, I can't." Stan forced a laugh. "I can't have anyone I want."

Kyle winced as he tried to glance at Stan's expression. He was expecting to see a joking face, but all he got was a crucial stare. Who would reject Stan Marsh?

"Yeah well anyone who says no to the Marsh man is an idiot, because you're fuckin' perfect man. Fuckin' golden." Kyle at this point was infrequently shivering with….something. It wasn't the pain. He was still a little delirious and talking straight out of his heart. He really did respect Stan; he just never wanted Stan to know how much.

He might think it was weird, too weird. And Kyle wasn't willing to risk their friendship for the sake of a few compliments.

"Well, we know you can run and you can take a hit. That's pretty awesome for a newb." Stan changed the subject and held out his hand for Kyle to take hold of again. Kyle waved his own hand and pushed himself off of the ground. On his feet Kyle was wobbly and still unbalanced, but he was determined.

"What's next?" Kyle pretended to be unnerved, but in reality he pictured his internal organs resembling pancake batter.

"Can you catch a football?" Stan asked.

"Did you bring a football?" Kyle asked back.

"Nope. But I have one at home." Stan surveyed Kyle's physical condition. "Can you make the trip back without dying?"

"Dude, I'll be fine." Kyle made his way to the nearest piece of sidewalk that traced around the park and started the journey to Stan's house. Stan was soon by his side.

"You know Kyle, I never knew you had so much…."

"Balls? Yeah. Learn somethin' new every day." Kyle wiped away sweat from his forehead. Walking while in immense pain was quite tiresome.

"Yeah. Balls." Stan smirked. "When we get to my house you can get some ice on those wounds."

"What wounds? These are battle scars." Kyle pointed to the newly acquired slices on his arm he had received from his encounter with the tree and from Stan's surprise tackle.

"Whatever." Stan replied and the rest of the walk was comfortably silent.

They arrived at Stan's house around 10:30 AM. Stan knocked on the door and Shelley answered.

"Hello Stan." Shelley's voice was lined with irritation. She then saw Kyle and beamed. "Hello Stan's boyfriend, an honorable member of society who doesn't get hammered and expect other people to clean up after him. I don't know how you do it, Kyle." Shelley sounded proud of Kyle but Kyle knew he wasn't a Good Samaritan. Stan was just one of Kyle's best friends and he was obligated to have his back.

"Thanks for the speech, Mom. Can you let us in now?" Stan pushed past Shelley into his house and Kyle followed. Stan went directly to his kitchen and darted to his refrigerator to grab a packet of ice.

Kyle jumped up on top of the empty space next to the kitchen stove. He admired the plastic fruits and vegetables the Marsh family had as a centerpiece for their dinner table that was directly across from the stove. They'd never be able to eat any of them of course, but just the plastic, shiny apples and bendable carrots made the family seem at least health conscious.

Kyle felt a frosty sting on his left cheek. The pain in his face went numb as Stan moved the ice pack from the left cheek to the right.

"Thanks." Was all Kyle could muster up the energy to say, he didn't realize how exhausted he was.

"No problem." Stan leaned in closer to Kyle and pressed the ice pack gently. Kyle's pulse spiked the closer Stan got and he didn't know why. It had been like this for at least a year now. Sometimes without warning, his body would react to Stan's in strange ways. This time it was his heart rate skyrocketing as Stan helped him soothe his burning cuts. Stan was concentrating as he maneuvered the ice packet around Kyle's "battle scars" and every once in a while Stan would simper at him.

Kyle cringed as the ice was pressed against a cut.

"That's the game, dude." Stan reiterated his statement from the park. "No pain, no gain."

"Un huh, yep." Kyle nodded curtly. "Pain is weakness leaving the body."

"We'll work on catching tomorrow," Stan removed the ice pack from Kyle. "I don't think you can handle any more education."

"Football's a pretty difficult lesson." Kyle jumped down from his seat next to the stove. "Can I just hang out here until it gets dark? I don't want my parents to think I got into a fight."

"Won't they think you got kidnapped or something?" Stan put the ice pack back into his fridge.

"Nope, I just thought I spotted that tree frog's offspring so I set up a stake out to watch for it down by Stark's pond. Important science, Stan. It has no curfew."

Stan smiled. "Awesome."

Kyle began to limp away towards the steps leading to Stan's bedroom. Stan was about to follow when he heard knocking on the door. Stan left the kitchen and opened the door to his home to an unexpected visitor.

"Hello Stan." It was Cartman. His face was covered in beige face paint and he was wearing a beige jacket and beige pants. He looked like he was trying to blend into a beige background that Stan just could not imagine.

"Hey Cartman. Did you need something?" Stan was already closing the door slowly. Either Cartman wanted something illegal, or Stan's assistance in something illegal.

"Just a place to you know, hang out. It is a beautiful Saturday, and what a better way to spend it than with my beautiful best friend?" Cartman winked.

Well, this was certainly creepy.

Stan let Cartman in. "Kyle's already upstairs."

Cartman halted his steady climbing up Stan's steps. "I'm sorry? I thought I heard you say _Kyle_ was present?"

"Yeah, we just got back." Stan shrugged. "You can always go to Kenny's house and see if he's home. Although, on a Saturday…" Stan trailed off. He enjoyed seeing the desperately stranded look Cartman had on his face. His options were bleak, go upstairs and hang out with _Kyle_ or go to Kenny's house which was so lame even Kenny was rarely in it.

"That's….awesome…that _Kyle_ is here….just another one of my….._friends._" Cartman's voice trembled. "I'll just go upstairs and…._talk_ to _Kyle_….Thank you, Stan." Cartman's apprehension was apparent as he ascended Stan's steps in what seemed like slow motion. Cartman and Kyle's friendship, if it could be classified as one, had become more strained once they entered high school. Kyle didn't exactly hate Cartman, and was usually indifferent to his existence. Cartman treated Kyle like he was diseased, and often opted to hang out with Stan or Kenny if possible. Kyle was always his last resort.

Stan walked back to the fridge and grabbed a few sodas and various bags of chips.

"Now all we're missing is Kenny." Stan said to himself as he made his way up the steps. When he was near his bedroom, he heard another knocking at the door.

"Kenny!" Shelley exclaimed happily.

"Sup?" Kenny replied. "Stan here?"

Stan dropped off the sodas and chips for Kyle and Cartman, and then made his way back downstairs to greet Kenny.


	4. Disturbing Dialogue

Kenny had been escorted into Stan's living room by his sister Shelley. Kenny was wearing a loose blue and white striped v neck with tight fitted jeans. Stan and Kenny greeted each other with their usual nod of acknowledgment and semi-wave.

"Hey Kenny. Kyle and Cartman are already here so…the party's upstairs." Stan pointed up and winked. He then let his hands fall to his side once he realized Kenny's face was blank.

"Dude what's up?" Stan's voice became serious. He took a seat on the nearest couch and motioned for Kenny to sit down on the couch opposite to him. The couches were currently covered in plastic, and made a sickly whining sound when they sat down on them.

Kenny sighed. "I fucked up Stan."

"What happened?" Stan raised an eyebrow and leaned in towards Kenny from his seat, eliciting a high pitched "creaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" from the couch. "Someone pregnant?"

"No." Kenny laughed. "Worse."

"Someone…..dead?" Stan asked quietly. "Blink once for yes and twice for no. I think there's some kind of law if you admit it to anybody out loud."

"Relax Stan. The only thing dead here is my player account."

"Kenny, I have no idea what you're talking about." Stan shrugged. "If no one's pregnant and no one's dead, I really don't see how you, being Kenny and only attracting _those_ kinds of problems, have a problem."

"Goddammit, Stan. I'm in love." Kenny buried his face in his hands. "With Butters Stotch."

"I'm….sorry?" Stan suppressed a grin. "Kenny, are you serious?"

"Yessssssss." Kenny hissed. "So shut the hell up."

"Sorry, sorry." Stan coughed, secretly choking on his own laughs. "Dude, how'd that even happen?"

"I DON'T KNOW." Kenny screamed and threw his hands in the air, like he was asking for a divine answer from God himself. "_Warum Gott_?"

"What was that last thing you said?" Stan was now taking deep breaths in an effort to keep himself from rolling on the floor in hysterics. Kenny obviously took this problem very seriously.

"It means "Why God". It was literally the only thing I learned in German I, and that's only because we had to act out some play where the main character kept shouting it whenever somebody got beheaded. Which was pretty much in every scene." Kenny shooed an invisible fly away from his face. Stan knew that was Kenny's way of saying "we have more important things to talk about".

"Stan, what am I going to do? I've never _loved_ anything before, not once. Not like this."

"Wait dude, if you've never loved anything before how do you even know what this is?" Stan put his feet up on the conveniently placed coffee table that separated Kenny's couch from his.

"Because, Stan. You know me. I like to have sex. I don't care about the girl. I sure as hell don't care about the guy. I mean, if the sex is good sure yeah, I can stay another hour or two in the morning. But I'm still going to _leave._"

"Did you have sex with Butters?" Stan blurted the question out ungracefully immediately after Kenny had stopped talking.

"No…." Kenny's answered trailed off into nowhere. The room filled with silence.

"So, what happened? How do you know that you _love_ Butters Stotch and not that girl you hooked up with last night? Stacy whatsherface."

"First things first. I kind of lied about Stacy. I mean, I did hook up with her but that was at the party in Wendy's bathroom. I didn't leave the party with her. I left with Butters." Kenny's tone sounded remorseful.

"A drunk Butters?" Stan guessed.

"Nope, a sober one. He offered to take me home since I looked so wasted." Kenny smiled and then met Stan's stare. Kenny's smile vanished and he continued with his story.

"Anyways, we get back to Butters' place. I told him we can't go to mine since my keys fell out of my pocket in Wendy's bathroom and they'd probably have puke all over them by the time we went back to get 'em. We hang out in his bedroom for about an hour, I get a little sober. And then he kissed me."

"Whoah, Butters made a move on you?" Stan let out a small chuckle. "Way to go Butters."

"Anyways," Kenny rolled his eyes at Stan. "I kiss him back. Then I pull "Le Kenny", you know when I start making out with someone and then suddenly throw all my weight on them knocking them down to the ground so I can be on top? Yeah, I did that. But right in the middle of our make out session, he stopped me." Kenny scoffed. "He kissed _me_ and then asked _me_ to _stop._ Who does that?"

"Teases." Stan mumbled under his breath. "Continue."

"So I ask him why he wants me to stop, and he tells me it's because he doesn't want to make out with me when he thinks I'm still drunk. He said it doesn't feel "real". He didn't want to be another one night stand. Which doesn't make any sense. Butters knows I've never had anything other than a one night stand. But you know how I know I love him Stan?"

"How?" Stan felt he was obligated to ask.

"Because I stopped. When he told me he didn't wanna' be another one of my one night stands, I stopped. I didn't just keep kissing him until he forgot what he was talking about, which is my usual plan B. I took my hands off of him, my tongue out of him and I spread out on his floor and went to sleep. No questions asked."

"Kenny, just because you didn't have sex with him doesn't mean you love him." Stan stood up and walked over to Kenny's couch. He sat down beside him. The couch let out another "creaaaaaaaaaaaaa". Stan thought it sounded oddly like approval.

"Then what does it mean, Stan? I've never _ever_ stopped before, not just because someone asked once." Kenny sounded genuinely disturbed about his feelings for Butters. Stan gave him a manly pat on the back.

"You probably like Butters, Kenny. Love? No. So deal with it. Ask him out, go to his house, bring him flowers….nah don't bring him flowers. Whatever. Just, let him know you want a piece of that Stotch."

"Thanks, Stan. I feel better." Kenny returned the manly pat on the back to Stan. "And Stan? You do the same okay? Let him know you want a piece of that."

"Kenny, what are you talking about?" Stan's face showed total confusion. Kenny just simpered as he got up to leave Stan's house.

"You know Stan, you really are a dumb jock." Kenny yelled behind him as he walked down the street, away from Stan's house. Stan stood in the doorway, perplexed.

He quickly slammed the door shut when he remembered that Kyle and Cartman were still upstairs.

"Cartman, just because you thought of a plan doesn't mean it's going to work. There's no such thing as Cartman proof, especially since you change plans faster than you change identities at the post office. "

"Kyle, let me let you in on a little secret. You're a loser. You avoid unfamiliar social contact like the plague, you actually keep your school notes alphabetized by subject and your boyfriend won't even go out with you in public. And it's not about you two being gay, dude. It's about you having the intrigue level of a dying snail. You're slowing him down, Kyle. And everybody knows it."

"Cartman what are you even talking about? I don't _have_ a boyfrie-"Kyle stopped mid-sentence and beamed at Stan. "Oh, hey Stan. Cartman and I were just discussing politics. To vote Republican, or not to vote at all. Weren't we, Cartman?"

Cartman smiled at Stan. "We were talking about why you don't take Kyle out to dinner and a movie. I think it's because he's a loser." Cartman shot a sneer over at Kyle. "And Kyle doesn't know what to think, since he only agrees with his Stanny poo bear and has no opinions of his own."

Stan looked at Cartman and groaned. The beige paint Cartman had come to his house covered in, was now all over his room. Stan had a freshly painted metallic chair at his computer desk and a freshly painted spot on his carpet floor. Cartman stood directly in the spot, leering at Kyle.

"Stan, please tell Cartman that we are not and have never been boyfriend and boyfriend." Kyle was on Stan's bed sitting Indian style.

"Kyle and I have never been boyfriend and boyfriend." Stan pointed at Cartman. "Now you either get out or get cleaned up. You're disgusting."

"And Stan wasn't talking about your lame paint job. What were you trying to blend in with? Cement? You're an idiot, Cartman." Kyle commented from the bed.

Cartman headed towards Stan's door and made a left for the bathroom to get cleaned up. He returned to Stan's doorway suddenly as if he had forgotten something. He then turned to Kyle and said, "At least I'm not a fag." Cartman left the doorway as quick as he had come and a few seconds later, Kyle and Stan could hear a shower running.

"Dude, I think everybody thinks we're together." Kyle said incredulously. "When did this happen?"

"Doesn't matter." Stan replied and went to take a seat next to Kyle on the bed. "Just another stupid rumor. It's like, you can't even have a best guy friend without people thinking he's your boyfriend. I hate high school."

"I concur." Kyle smiled. "So tomorrow, we're still working on my catching right? After school?"

"Sure. I'll meet you at the park around 5? I have football practice." Stan shook his head. "That team would die without me."

"Careful Stan, your ego is showing." Kyle pushed Stan. "And I can still beat you up."

Stan pushed Kyle back. Kyle pushed Stan again, _harder._ Stan tackled Kyle and they both fell off the bed. Stan landed on top of Kyle. They laughed and Kyle half-heartedly tried to get Stan off of him. Cartman silently reentered the room and grumbled.

"Really you guys? You can't _not_ be gay for 5 minutes?"


	5. Oops! There It Is

"_Oh but won't you love me, Jerry? Won't you love me forever?"_

"_Amanda, I could never not love you….but I must go."_

"_Jerry! There's something I never told you…I'm pregnant, Jerry. And it's yours."_

"_Amanda….oh Amanda. I promise you, this will be my last assignment. And then, then we can live like royalty! House in the suburbs, cars for the both of us and a room for the youngster. I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you, my sweet Amanda."_

"_Sure would be nice, Jerry. Sure would be nice."_

Kyle stared blankly at the TV screen in the front of the classroom and considered self-induced head trauma. This was the fifth time in the same semester that Mrs. Gunderson had shown "This Woman's World". Kyle wouldn't have minded, since this was his film class and they were supposed to be analyzing films. However, he did mind the fact that instead of starting _exactly_ where they left off in the movie from their last class, Mrs. Gunderson decided to go about 15 minutes back. Kyle still didn't know if this was because Mrs. Gunderson wanted the class to catch something in the movie they hadn't, or because she was having trouble keeping up with all her academic paperwork. Either way, Kyle had taken notes. He looked down to match his notes with what was happening on the screen.

Analysis of "This Woman's World"

-Amanda is a secretary at Jerry's law firm

-Amanda finds out Jerry's "law firm" is a secret organization run by the government, like the CIA but with lawyers (lawyers???? Who wrote this movie???)

-Amanda and Jerry begin affair

-Amanda gets knocked up; Jerry has to go off on "one last mission"

-Amanda most likely represents the women during the early 1920's, doing mostly "women work"

-Jerry is the lamest government agent in the history of cinema

-I'm so damn happy this class is only one semester long

Kyle couldn't clearly remember jotting down the last note, but shrugged it off since it was written in black ink and he didn't feel like pestering people for white-out. Mrs. Gunderson's class was usually a little more interesting when Stan was there. Kyle knew that Stan decided to skip her class today, and instead go out to eat with the rest of "the guys" on the football team. Kyle sighed. The closest he had ever gotten to hanging out with "the guys" was when he accidentally sat down at the soccer team's designated table for their victory lunch in the cafeteria. The guys were too busy inhaling their food to notice Kyle, until one of them asked about what position he played. His answer? Missionary.

Apparently, soccer teams are not impressed by sex jokes like the rest of the high school crowd Kyle was used to performing for. No one at the table laughed and Kyle got up and moved awkwardly to his normal seat near the back of the cafeteria, next to the teachers and trashcans.

Kyle's attention span for "This Woman's World" was all used up. His eyes began to drift to his left towards Kenny whose eyes were glued to the back of Butters' bright, blonde head. Kenny's gaze was steady, like a tiger waiting on the perfect moment to attack its prey. Butters eyes were slowly coming to a close and his head beginning to tip over slightly. A few seconds later and Kyle could hear Butters' snores floating around on his side of the classroom. Kyle was positive Mrs. Gunderson heard it, which confirmed his belief that Mrs. Gunderson was so swamped with paperwork she didn't care what happened as long as she didn't have to look up from her desk.

75 minutes and a new set of notes later, Kyle's film class was over. Thankfully, it was his last class of the day. Since he had the time and the lack of anything remotely interesting to do, he had taken notes on Stan's behalf. He convinced himself that Stan needed the notes immediately, and it couldn't wait until he saw him for their football lesson later. Kyle knew that somewhere in his subconscious his ulterior motives were doing the Macarena out of pure happiness. Kyle was going to the football field where Stan practiced, where one day _he_ might practice, and he was so anxious he felt like throwing up.

When he reached the field, he waved at Stan animatedly who waved back just as excited. Kyle grinned to himself. There was absolutely nothing wrong about wanting to give your friend class notes when he just so happened to be practicing for the team you planned on joining pretty soon. It was like preview shopping, except it involved a lot less blood. Kyle had heard some vicious stories about discount sales from the girls at school.

Stan ran to the metal chain-link fence that separated the clean cut field from the messy, unkempt long slices of grass growing on Kyle's side of the fence. Kyle thought that if that exact moment were a movie the director's purpose would've been to emphasize that the grass may not always be greener on the other side…sometimes it's just neater.

"Dude." Stan was panting, and simply nodded at Kyle.

"Dude, I got some notes for film class. Want me to put 'em in your locker?" Kyle pointed towards the football lockers without looking, which lead to him pointing to the street that ran across their school's premises.

Stan was too concerned with breathing to notice. "Yeah dude, thanks. And hey, see you later okay? 5?"

"Yup." Was all Kyle said as he headed towards the lockers, notes safely secured under his arm.

He was stopped by what felt like a brick wall. All Kyle could see was a bright red jersey and letters running across it that read "Brick Wall".

How fitting.

"Sup Kyle? Did you know that there was a rumor going around that you were dead?" Craig's surround sound voice boomed around Kyle.

"Really Craig? Fascinating." Kyle tried to get past the brick wall once again, but was of course deferred.

"Yeah. And no one could even prove that you weren't dude. Must suck when the whole school thinks you're dead."

"Yes Craig, it breaks my heart to know that South Park High's student population, the majority I do not know mind you, do not realize that I'm still alive." Kyle fake laughed. "Why it's as if I never existed among these commoners! Me? The king of this adolescent empire!" The nervous habit Kyle had developed somewhere around 8th grade of using almost every word in his vocabulary was rearing its head. It had really bad timing.

"I hate it when assholes like you try to talk down to me. You're nothing, Kyle Brewinski." Craig flicked Kyle on the forehead. "Tell you what, I'm going to give you 10 seconds to run before I make that rumor about you being dead come true."

Kyle gulped. "You're joking right Craig? I mean, we literally just bumped into each other. Sorry if I offended you dude."

Craig smiled. "I'm not in a forgiving mood. 9 seconds, Briflotski."

Kyle's muscles tensed. His curiosity was piqued about the possibility of only existing for the next 8 seconds.

Then Kyle ran. He ran for his life.

The world was an absolute blur as he passed the school buildings, faculty offices and student parking lot. Unfortunately, Kyle realized he would be running in a circle until Craig got tired. He was _not_ going to lead the monster to his house. He could try to lead it somewhere where punching him in the face would be illegal like the library or a coffee shop, but that would require him to heed to traffic.

He couldn't figure how he had enough time left in his 8 second life to wait for the sign to read "WALK".

He didn't want to take his chance on hiding either, since most of the school was locked up once the students were dismissed.

Kyle could now hear a second pair of feet trailing his. Kyle's heart beat faster, and his feet followed suit. The footsteps trailed behind further and further, as Kyle rounded the school a third time.

Fourth time.

Fifth time.

Sixth time.

The footsteps were gone, but Kyle couldn't stop. His adrenaline level was so high he was pretty sure that if he tried to jump, he was going to _fly._

Or maybe that was just his mind's attempt at an escape plan.

Kyle skidded to a stop when a man in a Yankees baseball hat appeared in front of him.

The man was clapping ecstatically and hollering "THAT'S HOW YOU WIN, BOYS" over and over as Kyle frantically searched his surroundings for any sign of Craig.

Gone.

Kyle's chest was rising and falling rapidly as he watched the man's movements closely.

Wait….was the man clapping….for him?

"What's your name, son?" The man's words were raspy, the kind of raspy that comes from years of smoking expensive cigars or cheap cigarettes.

"Kyle….Broflovski." Kyle now spotted Craig behind the fence, staring right at him.

"Kyle Broflovski? The science kid? Good with numbers? Yeah, yeah I heard of ya'. Didn't think you could do _that_ though." The man clapped once more. "Hot dog, boy. You leavin' behind a TRAIL OF FIYAH!"

"Trail of fire? Wha-" Kyle was barely in the conversation. His legs were telling him to run every time Craig made eye contact with him.

"Son, how would you like to join South Park's finest?" The man made a hand gesture towards the practicing football team.

"YES." Kyle's answer was unnecessarily audible and he clasped his hands over his mouth instantly. He exhaled once and answered calmly, "Yes, sir."

"Nah, boy. YOU WERE RIGHT THE FIRST TIME." The man's raspy words had turned into deep bellows. "WOULD YOU LIKE TO JOIN SOUTH PARK'S FINEST?"

"SIR, YES, SIR." There was something exhilarating to Kyle about having a screaming match with a complete stranger.

"THEN GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE TOMORROW AFTER SCHOOL FOR PRACTICE. AND I SWEAR TO GOD BROFLOVSKI IF YOU'RE LATE, I WILL FRY YOU AND SERVE YOU TO MY DOG. BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT PEOPLE WHO CAN'T BE ON TIME ARE WORTH TO ME, DOG FOOD. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"SIR, YES, SIR." Kyle yelled in reply.

"Good then." The man flashed Kyle a smile. "After practice tomorrow, come to my office. We can discuss your jersey, nickname and number. As of now, you're no one, wimp and 0 to me until tomorrow." The man walked back towards the field, shaking his arms at various football players and telling them to "hustle or go the hell home".

Kyle couldn't decide whether to puke or frolic. He accepted one more glare from Craig and decided that both puking and frolicking would get him murdered.

Instead, Kyle traced his steps and found the notes he was going to put in Stan's locker. He collected them under his arm again, and when out of sight of the football field merrily skipped his way into the locker room.

Today Kyle was no one, wimp, 0.

Tomorrow Kyle was _finally going to be somebody._

Kyle kicked Craig's locker a couple of times in celebration.


	6. Setting Money On Fire

"_You know I love it when,_

_You know I love it when you shake that ass, girl._

_You know I love it when,_

_I love it when you shake that ass g-g-g-girl."_

At 5 o' clock, Kyle heard a knock. Considering the volume of the celebratory music he was blasting, he wasn't sure if the knock was on his bedroom door or just the bass from the song.

"_Let's s-s-set this money on fire,_

_Let's w-w-watch it burn,_

_Baby when's it my turn?_

_B-baby when's it my turn?_

_I l-l-ove it when you shake that _

_a-a-sssss g-g-girl"_

Kyle stepped over the science books he had thrown to the ground and opened his door.

The music escaped into the hallway, and in front of Kyle stood a grinning Stan.

"Wow Kyle, those are some deep lyrics." Stan laughed and began to clap. "Congrats by the way, on making the team."

Kyle smiled. "Thanks."

_Crap. Here it was again._ That same feeling Kyle had when Stan helped put ice on his cuts from their first football lesson. Kyle didn't even know what caused it this time. Stan really wasn't _that close_ to him.

If Stan didn't stop doing whatever he was doing, Kyle was going to be sick.

"You still want me to teach you how to catch, Superstar?" Stan winked and pointed a finger at Kyle, like an old football captain from the 50's.

"Hell yeah." Kyle attempted to wink back at Stan but instead rapidly blinked twice.

"You okay?" Stan's voice was concerned.

"Yeah I was just trying to do that wink thing-You know what? It's not important." Kyle forwent an explanation. "I'll just get my stuff and we can go. Meet you downstairs?"

"Cool." Stan spun left, and walked down Kyle's steps.

Kyle lunged across his bedroom, turned off the music, grabbed his lucky pair of tennis shoes and hopped down the stairs behind Stan.

When Kyle got to the living room, Stan was staring out one of the windows intently.

"What's wrong, dude?" Kyle asked, and brought his foot up towards his chest so he could force one of his shoes onto it.

"Where'd all this rain come from?" Stan lifted a finger gently and pointed at the glass.

"Rain?" Kyle stumbled his way over to the window. "Wow. This is…. A lot."

Outside it was nothing like the calm, friendly naptime rain Kyle was used to. The sky might have been throwing up. Gigantic fused globs splashed against the sidewalk, and dampened Kyle's front yard.

"There's no way we can practice in this." Stan shrugged and patted his pants' pocket to make his house keys jingle.

Kyle shook his head. "And there's no way you're going home in this."

"Well, I could go home later. Whatever. I don't have any homework anyways." Stan turned away from the window and sat down on the arm of the nearest couch.

"That's because you don't go to class." Kyle walked over to Stan. "What do you even do all day anyways?"

"You'll find out track star." Stan laughed dismissively. "Dude, did I tell you about Kenny?"

"He get somebody pregnant yet?" Kyle's question was honest.

"Nope. He thinks he's in love." Stan scoffed.

"With Stacy?" Kyle's jaw fell open midway and he staggered into one of the couch's seats.

"Nope, with Butters." Stan announced the information in a stoic, empty tone like he didn't believe it himself.

"Seriously?" Kyle smirked. "Good for him. He's no longer in danger of getting a STD. Well, Kenny isn't. Butters definitely is."

Stan laughed. "I just can't believe it. You know he dated Wendy, right?"

If there were water in his mouth Kyle would've been spitting it out.

"Wendy? And Kenny?" Kyle's stomach churned uncomfortably. Even though Kyle wasn't exactly BFFs with Wendy, he still respected her….when she wasn't drunk.

"Yeah. He went out with Wendy and he didn't fall in love with her. Crazy." Stan smiled one of his bright, empty smiles. Kyle sighed.

"You still love her?" Kyle stared at Stan, hard. They had talked about this before at the beginning of Junior High. Stan had told Kyle that Wendy "was a skank whore who didn't deserve him". Then Stan proceeded to weep.

"No way. She's like my little sister now. It'd be too weird." Stan's eyes flickered to the right. "What's the word? Incest?"

"Incest." Kyle nodded.

"Enough about Wendy," Stan leaned towards Kyle. "Who's your girl?"

"I don't think you've noticed, Stan, but I'm not really big on dating." Kyle admitted. "But if GPAs count, then yeah I'm definitely tapping that."

Stan straightened up in his seat. "Why not?"

"I'm just not." Kyle crumpled into his seat even more. Stan's eyes followed Kyle's movements.

"Kyle. If you were different, you'd tell me right?" Stan clasped his hands together.

"Different?" Kyle muttered back.

"Different. As in, you like the opposite of vaginas." Stan eloquently explained.

"Dude! No! I'm not gay!" Kyle suddenly sat up straight in his seat and locked eyes with Stan. "How could you even think that?"

"Because you don't even try! It's not like you're a freak or anything, Kyle. Girls _would_ make out with you if you gave 'em the chance!" Stan defended his accusation brusquely.

"Look. Just because I don't go to parties and stick my tongue down girls' throats doesn't mean I like balls, okay?" Kyle stood up, just inches away from Stan. And that was too close. Kyle could feel himself getting lightheaded.

"Sorry. Sorry. I was just being a bastard 'cause I was thinking about Wendy again." Stan's smile was real this time. "Once you get me started, you know I can't think about anything else."

And then.

Kyle's lips were on Stan's.

Kyle's lips were off Stan's.

Kyle backed away from Stan until he was reseated on the couch. Stan was frozen.

Kyle decided to speak. "Did that take your mind off Wendy?"

"You know how you said you didn't like balls?" Stan got up off of the couch's arm. "You totally like balls."

Kyle cringed. "No, I don't. I was just trying to get you to stop-"

"Shut the fuck up! You just kissed me!" Stan walked towards Kyle's door. "You forget, Kyle, I'm not the loser here. I know what a kiss feels like."

Kyle could feel his heart pounding with the beat of the rain, and it no longer mattered if the drops were inside or outside. It was raining, Kyle was raining, and they were one and the same.

"Dude, why the fuck did you have to do that?" Stan opened Kyle's door and a few drops of rain blew inside the house.

"I don't know." Kyle's eyes were becoming blurry. Rain, tears, rain, tears. Was there really a difference right now?

"Fuck you." Stan stepped out of Kyle's house into the rainstorm and slammed the door shut behind him.

Kyle sat there silently, waiting for anything.

His phone rang.

Kyle answered.

"Hello?" Kyle whispered into the phone.

"Stan told me everything!" Kenny's voice was brimming with overexcitement. "How are we gonna' celebrate? Party? Movie? Strippers?"

"I don't feel like doing anything tonight, Kenny. I think I'm just gonna' rest up for tomorrow." Kyle was putting on his best "Normal Kyle" impression that he could for Kenny, so he wouldn't get too suspicious.

"Alright then, dude. See ya' tomorrow." Kenny didn't sound like he had caught on to Kyle's real mood.

"See ya'." Kyle hung up the phone knowing something that Kenny didn't know or just didn't care about.

The fact that one kiss could fuck up your life forever.

There would be no more Stan and Kenny impromptu visits to Kyle's home.

Even Cartman would stop messing with Kyle once he found out what he'd done. Because making fun of people for what they actually are isn't "fun" according to Cartman, it's just depressing.

Kyle didn't want to be anywhere or anyone.

He didn't want to eat, drink or sleep.

He just wanted to go back in time and _not_.

Just not.

Not even have the conversation with Stan.

Not ever feel the way he felt when he was around Stan.

Not ever wanting to be on the football team.

Not ever wanting to exist outside of the classroom.

Not ever picking Stan up from that party.

Not ever mentioning Wendy.

Not ever mentioning incest.


	7. Take a Picture

_It was almost time for lunch at South Park High, and Kyle Broflovski was confused._

_Very, very confused._

_He hadn't been this confused since…_

"Kyle, this is Stacy! Isn't she freakin' adorable?" Wendy pointed to Stacy, a blonde haired, pretty eyed girl who was a little on the short side. She smiled brightly at Kyle, and Kyle gave her a blank stare back. Kyle was standing next to his locker, and the two girls had just….appeared. He wondered if they had materialized while he'd been exchanging textbooks.

_He actually had never been this confused._

"Bro? Bro!" Wendy snapped at Kyle to get his attention. The expression on her face had gone from friendly to pissed off in one second flat. Stacy stood motionless next to Wendy, still beaming at Kyle.

"Sorry, Wendy. It's just…" Kyle continued to stare at Stacy. His instincts as a gentleman finally kicked in. "She's lovely."

Stacy's laugh came out high pitched, soft and sweet.

Rehearsed.

Kyle nodded politely towards Stacy, and then pulled Wendy to his side immediately.

"Why am I meeting Stacy?" Kyle whispered in Wendy's ear, and smiled at Stacy over Wendy's shoulder. Stacy waved shyly.

"You really think she's cute, right?" Wendy whispered back to Kyle, uncertain.

"You never introduce me to your cute friends! You never introduce me to anybody!" Kyle whispered to Wendy harshly, a little resentment showing in his voice.

"Relax, Bro. I'm just trying to help you out before you end up dating a poser." Wendy motioned towards a girl walking down the hall wearing a shirt with no cleavage showing and jeans that fit. At South Park high, she was a rarity. As Kyle continued to observe the girl Wendy carefully explained that such girls were posers that would only turn into sober sluts after Kyle had won his first game with the team.

Wait. The team?

"Who told you?" Kyle exclaimed in Wendy's ear. She jumped back, and made a pouty face as she slowly rubbed the side of her head. After she'd instantly nursed herself back to health, she leaned against the locker, and shrugged.

"I know everyone. Everyone knows me. Anyone knows anything. I know everything." Wendy shrugged again as a bell rang out. She pushed herself off the locker, made her way over to Stacy and took her hand. Stacy made sure to shout a cutesy goodbye to Kyle that almost sounded like they were already dating.

Kyle shook his head, trying to shake off the disbelief in the last five minutes of his life.

Things were already changing, and he hadn't even been to practice yet.

He knew someone pretty, someone actually pretty.

And someone pretty knew him.

He took a deep breath in, a deep breath out, slammed his locker and ran to the cafeteria.

Kyle was greeted by Craig patting him roughly on the shoulder.

"Sup, Kyle? DO THE RUNNING MAN!" Craig proceeded to awkwardly dance in the middle of the cafeteria. Instead of disapproving glances, Craig received misplaced praise from his audience. Girls started dancing right along with him, and guys got into it too.

Kyle began laughing so hard it hurt. This was the greatest display of chain reaction stupidity he'd ever seen in his life. When Kyle's laughter came to a stop, so did Craig's dancing.

"But seriously though, good to have you." Craig patted Kyle again, harder.

"You threatened to kill me yesterday." Kyle noted as he moved into the lunch line. "You chased me around campus until I wanted to pass out. Could've died. "

Craig followed Kyle into the lunch line. "Just kidding! You have got to learn how to take a joke, man! Seriously." One of the girls who had been dancing along with Craig pulled up beside him in line. Craig kissed her affectionately, probably too affectionately for a public place. Kyle thought he saw Craig's tongue go into her mouth, and sensed a bit of vomit in his throat.

Kyle grabbed his food, and was going to sit at his usual table near the trashcans. They'd been redecorated with smashed pieces of chocolate cake and half-eaten lollipops. At the table, Kenny was already waving, and Cartman already sneering.

Before he could get there, he heard his name being called out from across the room.

"Yo, Kyle!"

"Kyle! Kyle! KYLE!"

"Kylebro! Get over here, you fucker!"

He gave an apologetic look to his usual table, and Kenny just grinned. Cartman grinned too, and for the first time in a long time his emotion was genuine.

Kyle turned around, and ended up putting his tray down next to "the guys" on the football team.

This was it.

It was official.

Whatever "it" was, he'd done "it".

Kyle Broflovski officially had a place in the high school hierarchy. He might not have had his share of girls named Stacy, played a game or even practiced one, but once people saw him hanging out with "the guys" they'd know he had to be somebody.

He was a new prince.

Among the obscene sex jokes, regular visits from girlfriends to the table to make out with their boy and the gorging on generic pizza, Kyle sat on his newly carved throne.

"This bitch tried to jump on my dick when I was still tipsy."

"Dude, bitches that can't hold their drinks are fucking hilarious."

"BITCHES AIN'T SHIT." Kyle screamed out for no particular reason, and the whole table went silent. Then, the table erupted in a joyous noise of howls and agreement. The absurdly vulgar conversations at the table continued, and Kyle finally felt what Stan must feel all the time. That feeling you get when you know you can say or do whatever you want, because someone, somewhere will have your back no matter what.

At the thought of Stan, Kyle suddenly could feel vomit in his throat again.

Where was Stan? Kyle's eyes briefly scanned around the cafeteria. He hadn't spoken to Stan since the incident between them, and felt his heart racing faster as he remembered it.

Regret.

No regret.

They were all Kyle was feeling about what happened with Stan. He needed to find him. He needed to let him know that what happened was a mistake, but it wasn't a mistake he was never going to make. The mistake had to happen, because well…He was sorry. He wasn't sorry. He'd never do it again. He wanted so badly to do it again.

Kyle didn't know what he was going to say to Stan, but he knew he had to say _something._

Kyle asked the table about Stan, and a few expletives later they admitted they didn't know where he was either or if he was even coming to practice.

Kyle excused himself from the table, taking his tray with him. He silently took care of his tray, discarded his food and left the cafeteria. As new royalty, he had a smile on his face and an overconfident stride. As Kyle Broflovski, he felt like he had a hole in his head. He couldn't think properly now, knowing that he didn't know anything, really, about how he felt about Stan.

He made it through the rest of his classes for the day like a ghost. He didn't raise his hand once, and when called on he gave no reply. Kyle's mind continued to float, waiting to figure out what Stan was supposed to mean to Kyle, where he was supposed to be.

By the time Kyle made it to the football coach's office, he had his answer.

"With me…" Kyle mumbled under his breath as he placed his hand on the coach's doorknob. "He's supposed to be with me."

Kyle assuredly closed the office door behind him.


End file.
